How could this have happened?
by Fenrisa
Summary: Never had he felt so weak. What good were his renowned skills if he couldn't retrieve a simple treasure? If he couldn't even protect the two people that were closest to him?


A look into Altair's mind during the first part of the game and his feelings throughout. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed or the characters in it.

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_How could this have happened?_ This is what Altair wondered as he stood before the wall of rock that currently separated him from his companions. Much to his dismay, the glare that was directed at the wall seemed to have no effect. He could still hear the clashes of swords and cries of pain, but whether friend or enemy made them, he couldn't tell.

_This shouldn't have happened. _Thoughts such as these continued to swim around in his head. He searched his recent memories of the moment when things had taken a turn for the worse. His mind stopped at when he had confronted Robert de Sable. _Hide in plain sight. _That was the second tenet of the Creed that Altair and his brothers had always lived by, and he had ignored it. His confidence overshadowed the law that had been drilled into him since he had become a novice. At some point the golden-eyed Assassin had realized that he didn't need to follow the Creed as closely as before. After all: _Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. _He would do whatever was necessary in order to accomplish his task, and if that meant ignoring the Creed, then so be it.

So, he had confronted Robert de Sable. He had stepped out of the shadows and directly challenged him. Then he had attacked. Malik often said that he was arrogant. Cocky. Altair preferred to think of it as being extremely sure of his skills. He knew that he was different from the other Assassins. He was faster, stronger, and had he had been the youngest Assassin ever to have risen to the rank of Master Assassin. No one could hope to match him, except the Master and perhaps even Malik in certain areas. He was the best of the best, and no Templar could ever hope to stand up to him, not even the Grandmaster of the Order himself.

That's what he'd thought anyway, but he was soon proven wrong. The Assassin ran at Robert, ignoring Malik's cry and slashed out at Robert with his hidden blade, awaiting the blood that would soon drench it. But no blood came. His attack had been halted with a punch to the face and then the Templar had seized him. For the first time in his life, Altair felt helpless. He had been bested and now he was at the mercy of the Frenchman before him. He tried once again to force his blade into the other's neck, but he had just as much success with this action as the one before. What was worse was that Robert chose to spare him, and he had no chance to respond as his enemy pushed him and he was sent flying back through the wooden beams behind them, bringing down the beams and the rocks that they had supported.

"Men! To arms! Kill the Assassins!" Those had been the words Robert had shouted after Altair's flight. A knot of dread formed in the pit of his stomach and he turned and ran in the opposite direction. He told himself that he wasn't fleeing. Yet, that's what it felt like as he searched for an exit. Malik and Kadar wouldn't make it out. Robert was too strong and the Assassins were outnumbered. The thought of them dying shouldn't have bothered him much as it did. This was a dangerous life they lived and it was rare for anyone in their Order to live until their hair turned white. And now, because of his actions, Malik and Kadar were dead. The two people he would have done anything to protect were dead.

Some his confidence drained away as he stood at the opening of the cave and stared across the desert towards the fortress of Masyaf. Never had he felt so weak. What good were his renowned skills if he couldn't even protect two people?! This was what he wondered about as he rode to Masyaf. And he remembered that he still had to report to the Master. He had to report to Al Mualim, the man who had personally trained him and acted as his father when his own had died, that he had failed. Altair remembered how the Grandmaster had stressed the importance of this mission. About how if the Templars gained their hands on this treasure that they were retrieved, disaster would soon follow. And now, because of Altair, the Templars had the treasure.

He ran up the hill to the fortress, ignoring Abbas' jealous comments until he could not longer take them. The comment about licking the Master's boots had been the last straw. "Another word and I'll put my blade to your throat," Altair snarled before brushing past his rival and heading towards Al Mualim's study.

He stood before the old Assassin's desk and gave his report, biting out the responses to the Master's questions and exposing his own failures. Al Mualim chose to further expose these failures as he listed them out, as if Altair had not just said them. His words were filled with a mixture of disappointment and anger, and his 'Best Man' could do nothing but stand still and take it in stride, though he felt his pride being chipped away as each reprimand entered the air around them.

"Where are Malik and Kadar?" Altair had been been waiting for this to be brought to light. It had already been asked by Abbas but to hear his father-figure say it only made him feel more inadequate. Why hadn't he tried to find a way back into the cave? But he shouldn't have even bothered to ask himself that question. He knew the answer already, and it was that he'd already thought his two friends to be gone from this world.

"Dead," he said with regret.

"No! Not dead!"

Altair turned to face the new arrival in shock. Surely his eyes and ears were deceiving him. But no, Malik was here before them, in the flesh, with only a bloody arm to show for his struggle to continue living. Sadly, Altair's elation didn't last, for it was stripped away with Malik's next words.

"Kadar is gone! Because of you," the injured man said, voice filled with apparent rage as he pointed at Altair.

"Robert threw me from the room! There was no way back. Nothing I could do." He would never kill Kadar, whether directly or indirectly. The novice had been like a brother to him and he'd cherished the way the younger Al-Sayf had looked up to him. Why couldn't Malik see that?

"All of this could have been avoided. And my brother…my brother would still be alive!"

Altair couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't how this mission was supposed to turn out. Al Mualim said that missions never go as expected but to think that it had gone this badly. As if his call for escape had been heard, one of their brothers appeared and claimed that Robert de Sable was trying to lay siege to Masyaf. With his Master's permission and one last glance at Malik, Altair set out to stop the attackers.

They succeeded and Robert was forced to flee. Altair once again stood before the Master, his eyes searching for some form of approval. Had he done well? Had he redeemed himself for what happened in Solomon's Temple? …Would Malik ever forgive him? It seemed he would never get his felt Al Mualim's blade pierce his stomach. He let death take him as the Elder's words echoed in his ears. _I am not a traitor, _he thought.

_How could this have happened?_


End file.
